


Through the Fire

by thefantasygoddess



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Angst, Childhood Trauma, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Molestation, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-07
Updated: 2019-12-07
Packaged: 2021-04-03 22:26:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21699892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefantasygoddess/pseuds/thefantasygoddess
Summary: Eddie is hurting himself and Buck finds out.
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz
Comments: 10
Kudos: 174





	Through the Fire

**Author's Note:**

> So here's another angsty Buddie fic. Only this time hurt!Eddie. Trigger warnings: self harm, childhood molestation.

A deep rooted craving for pain pulsated within his veins; this was something Eddie had not experienced in years. The desire began to bubble to the surface of his skin.

Even though he assured Buck he had moved past the whole lawsuit situation, he continued to hurt long after. The sting of the impalpable wound from the experience never went away. 

Christopher never expressed his distress to Eddie, nor could he comprehend why Buck suddenly vanished from their lives. Christopher expressed his sadness in other ways. 

And so did Eddie.

Eddie was unable to cope without having Buck around to talk to, to talk some sense into him. Buck would have stopped him from engaging in the street fighting. 

The fighting all began as a way to cope without Buck. It served as a distraction to dull the heartache. 

The impulse to hurt himself was growing stronger and he had managed to refrain from following through. How, he was unsure of..considering how tempting the idea had become lately. 

Eddie missed the sensation, the instantaneous relief he got from the pain. It was a way to maintain control when everything in his life was beyond his control. Or out of control. 

Eddie pushed the dark thoughts into the back of his mind as he forced a smile and read Christopher a bedtime story. 

"Goodnight," whispered Eddie as he kissed his son on his forehead and crept out, gently closing the door behind him.

He sat. Alone with his thoughts. 

Eddie glanced toward the bathroom. The dim light he left on for Christopher was tempting him, beckoning him to enter.

He weighed his options. 

He could watch tv. Catch up on social media. Or even just go to sleep. 

Eddie hadn't cut himself in years, especially when he was in the army. But he found other ways. 

Such as scalding himself with boiling water, which was easy to blame on a mishap in the kitchen. Punching any hard surface he came across. Scraping his knuckles against concrete. 

He even tested the boundaries when he was gathered at the table with the team. He would firmly yet quietly knock the inside of his wrists against the sides of his chair, and eventually they bruised. 

Eddie never drew attention to himself. He was an expert in self harm.

The fight club was most definitely another form of self harm. Although he technically was not doing anything harmful to himself, he was actively participating. He was inviting it. He was craving it. 

The floor creaked as Eddie stood up, slowly moving, making his decision. He flipped the bathroom light switch on and sat down on the edge of the bathtub.

The memories of his secret pastime invaded his mind. He inspected his old scars, brushing his fingers over them. Remembering the meaning behind them.

Under the sink was an old cigar box that had been in his family for decades. Straight from Mexico. Inside it were his "tools"..scalpels, blades, pieces of broken glass and the remains of aged and stale cigars that he would smoke and burn himself with after.

Eddie pulled out a razor blade and did not hesitate for one second. He slowly drug it across his right shoulder in small, even lines. He took in a sharp breath.

"Fuck," he muttered to himself, as he grimaced with pain. 

He figured that would be enough. But it wasn't. He kept going, until both of his upper arms (which could easily be covered) and his upper thighs were covered in neat stacks of perfectly aligned cuts.

Eddie gently pulled off his white tshirt and took in a sharp breath. His cuts were still fresh and they stung like hell.

"Long sleeves it is," he muttered to himself as he went to pull one out of his dresser.

Eddie convinced himself this was all he needed. Just a tiny taste of it. 

\----

Buck came over. They hung out, they ate dinner and after Christopher went to bed they cracked open a beer and talked about the day's events.

"You okay, Eddie?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"You're not still doing the fight club thing are you," Buck asked suspiciously.

"I'm long over that Buck. I got bored."

"So what will be your next phase?"

"Who said this was a phase?" Eddie asked.

"I guess if you enjoy pain.." stated Buck.

Eddie smirked, as he tipped his beer bottle back, drinking the last few drops. 

If only Buck knew. 

\----

Buck came out of the bathroom with a look of concern on his face. He was holding a wash rag in one hand and a wrinkled tshirt in the other, both stained with blood. And the blood against the white cloth and tshirt made the contrast undeniable. 

Eddie remained cool as a cucumber, and offered an explanation before Buck needed to ask. 

"Christopher had a bloody nose."

"Seems like a lot of blood for a bloody nose," Buck observed.

Eddie had been lazy in his clean up afterward. There were still traces of blood in the sink. The tshirt he had worn, along with the wash cloth, he had simply balled up and threw in the corner. The only act of caution he managed was to hide his blade and tuck the cigar box back under the sink. Out of sight, out of mind.

Eddie was so nonchalant about the subject that Buck let it go. Kids got nose bleeds. It was a common thing. No big deal.

They stayed up talking past one a.m.

"Shit. I better go," said Buck.

"Just crash here. Not like we're not going to the same place in the morning."

Eddie went to bed and Buck stayed up, drinking one more beer. He eyed the bloody tshirt Eddie had tossed into the laundry room. It was out in the open. 

Buck was not sure why but he felt compelled to examine the shirt a little closer. There was blood on the front of the tshirt. He looked closer and saw more prominent blood stains. 

"No way," Buck reasoned with himself out loud. There was no way Eddie Diaz was a cutter. But deep in the pit of his stomach, Buck knew better. The way the blood presented itself was not from a simple nose bleed. 

The evidence on that was clear.

Buck tried to come up with any other logical explanation, but when he was unable to he worried more and was unable to even think about going to bed. 

However, he did bring out the pull out bed and laid down. But his mind was spinning. He had to be overreacting. 

Eddie wasn't acting any differently. He wasn't giving off any red flags. 

About thirty minutes went by and while his eyes were closed, Buck had still not fallen asleep.

Buck heard Eddie's bedroom door open. He heard the creak of Eddie's steps under the carpet. And finally the bathroom door closed with a gentle click. 

Minutes passed. 

Buck thought it was strange the other man had been in there for so long. 

Buck got up and crept toward the bathroom, stepping carefully to avoid the spots that creaked. He opened the door and was met with Eddie sitting against the bathtub, bloody razor blade in hand.

Eddie looked up, not even slightly shaken, considering he had been caught in the act. 

"Shit," he muttered. "Thought you were asleep..."

"What. The. Fuck, Eddie??"

Eddie shrugged, knowing there was no way to talk himself out of this.

"I mean," began Eddie. "This is exactly what it looks like.."

Buck charged in and immediately pulled the razor blade out of the other man's hand.

"God damn it," began Buck as he glared at Eddie. "I knew it wasn't a bloody nose. How bad is it?"

"Not bad," Eddie answered.

"Let me see." 

Eddie calmly lifted up his left sleeve, revealing cuts in the crook of his forearm at the elbow, he showed him the cuts on both arms and the ones on his thighs.

"Jesus Christ, Eddie."

"I used to do it a lot more. This is nothing really.."

Buck's eyes grew wide at the other man's admission.

Buck knelt down next to Eddie.

"They really aren't that bad," Eddie assured him.

"That's not the point! Why would you do this, Eddie?"

Eddie shook his head, not completely aware of the answer himself. 

"Is it because of me? I know I hurt you..with that stupid lawsuit. I hurt Christopher too and I'll never forgive myself.."

Eddie glared at Buck.

"YOU always make everything about you. The fighting..I'll admit. That was to deal with you not being there. That was to get the anger out. The anger that I knew I could never take out on you..at least physically."

Eddie paused.

"But this.." he motioned down to his bloody arm. "Nothing to do with you."

Buck fell back out of his crouched position and gently slinked down the wall opposite Eddie.

"This was something I took up in high school. Actually middle school. I used to dig my fingernails into my palms until they bled. I scratched myself with paperclips until I bled. I would purposefully provoke our cat to scratch the fuck out of me until I bled."

Buck listened intently, a frown set on his face. 

"The big stuff didn't come until high school.."

"I'm sorry," began Buck. "I wish I had known sooner."

"Why should you have? I mean..I hid this but I also didn't. Does that make sense? I mean, the fight club should have been a give away. Bobby knew. He knew why too."

Buck bit his lip.

"I don't like this."

Eddie was unphased by the entire situation. Buck did not understand it.

"I'd be worried about you if you did," replied Eddie.

Buck understood that taking away blades, knives or any other sharp objects would not stop Eddie. Someone in dire straights of wanting to hurt themselves would find alternatives.

"Help me up, would ya?" asked Eddie.

Buck stood and offered a hand to the other man pulling him up. 

"Come on. Let's head to bed. We can talk more in the morning," offered Eddie.

Buck followed him into the bedroom and crawled into bed. But he could not sleep. He did not want to wait to talk.

Eddie must have felt the same because the soft snores that usually came out of him as he slept were absent. 

"I'm sorry you had to see," began Eddie. "I wasn't very subtle."

When Buck did not speak, Eddie continued.

"I just..I was raised by a generation of Mexican men who believe in the tough as nails mentality. And that showing emotion is a sign of weakness. I could go on."

"Hard life?" Buck questioned.

"Not always..my family meant well."

Buck nuzzled himself closer to Eddie. The warmth of his body heat put Buck in heaven. He never wanted to leave. 

"I'm at a point where I really don't care who knows," admitted Eddie. "It is just you know..a habit. A bad one. We all have those, right?"

"But Eddie.."

"Go to sleep, Buck."

"But there has to be a reason..for why you started? People don't just hurt themselves without a reason."

Eddie sat up and pulled the light on to his bedside lamp.

"You really aren't going to let this go are you?"

"No Eddie. I'm not."

Eddie sighed.

"I..was molested. By two different men..close friends of the family. For four years."

Buck's face fell, he was distraught. Then he felt his blood boil with rage. 

"I've moved past it in a sense that the nightmares are gone. The anger I held on to for years has dissipated. All that is left is the lingering after effect. The realization. It happened."

"Does your family know?"

"No. Which is why I rarely visit. Those men are still frequent acquaintances to my family, more than that actually."

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

"I wish I were, Buck."

There was a moment of silence and Eddie felt comfortable enough to continue.

"As I grew. And matured. I was no longer attractive to them. I was no longer satisfying their sick desires. Soon enough they left me alone."

"I was around seventeen when I got into the cutting. It was heavy. Multiple stitches, sutures..hospitalizations. My family never knew why. I guess they thought it was a phase. They knew no different."

Eddie took a deep breath. 

"I stopped before Christopher was born..but then after I started again..you know, because of the complications. I stopped completely afterward for about two and a half years. I found other ways to do the job that were not so visible. Not so obvious. And now..here we are."

Buck wrapped his arms around Eddie. Truly not knowing what to say. 

"You're the only one I've ever opened up to about this. My therapists have only gotten bits and pieces. I trust you, Buck."

"I'm so sorry that happened to you," whispered Buck.

"I used to dream of killing them," began Eddie. "I knew it would never make a difference. It would never change anything. It happened."

Buck cleared his throat. 

"You should open up more to someone. Other than me. Another therapist. Bobby has one assigned to the team, Frank, I think is his name."

"I think of Christopher..and how if anything like that ever happened to him.."

Eddie's voice trembled and his expression was set angrily. 

"I would fucking hunt that person down and murder them with my bare hands..and not just a simple kill. It would be savagely animalistic. A ripped out throat. Claw marks to the face. Broken limbs, until just a decaying carcass was left for whatever animal came across to devour it."

Buck ultimately agreed. He had no children of his own but Christopher may as well have been. And after almost losing him during the tsunami..he realized he could never live without him, or Eddie. 

"I'm glad you told me about what happened to you. I'll try my best to help you through it."

"Thank you, Buck."

"I love you, Eddie. So much. And Christopher. I never thought..we could be anything more than friends. This is pretty amazing," admitted Buck.

"I knew," replied Eddie.

"How?"

"The way you looked at me. I knew on my end. It didn't take you long to flirt with me. And out in the open? Made it even hotter for me."

Buck grinned. 

"What can I say? I'm a ladies man..and also a man's man? Does that sound right?"

It was four a.m. Both of them had to be up in two hours. Both of them stared up at the ceiling. Neither was asleep. 

Eddie was struck with the realization that he had not responded to Buck earlier.

"I love you too, Buck."

\----

Buck and Eddie were exhausted. Their work day was surprisingly non eventful. They responded to less calls than usual. 

"Want to come over tonight?"

"I was already planning on it," answered Buck with a grin. 

The ride home was quiet.

Eddie came up on a red light and Buck turned to him.

"I just..want you to know. I'm here for you. I can't stop you from hurting yourself but I just want you to be careful about it."

Eddie turned to Buck.

"I already reached out to Frank today."

Buck stared at him with surprise. 

"That's great, Eddie."

"I've got to stop sometime. I did for awhile. It always comes up somehow. I guess..I uh, need better coping skills."

"Yeah no shit," Buck mumbled. "So when do you talk to Frank?"

"Friday."

"What do you want for dinner?" Buck asked, changing the subject. "I'm cooking."

Eddie thought. 

"Let's ask Christopher."

Buck sat in the car as Eddie went inside his Abuela's house to get Christopher. A few minutes later she popped her head out and waved to Buck, blowing him a kiss.

Buck smiled and waved back.

"Alright Christopher, what's for dinner?"

"Pancakes."

"I can do that," replied Buck.

Eddie did not stop smiling the entire way home. Buck chatted quietly with Christopher. Asking about his day. Asking what he did. Telling him what they were going to do that evening. All of Buck's attention was on his boy. 

Christopher's own mother never even paid this much attention to their son. Not that she did not love him. Part of her was so distraught with his health issues she zoned out at times. But Buck never did. He never treated Christopher any differently. Eddie glanced at his son in the rearview mirror. He was so happy.

\----

Eddie put Christopher to bed and handed Buck a beer. 

"We should definitely get to bed earlier tonight."

"Yeah.." Buck agreed.

"Do you still think the same of me?"

"That's a stupid question. Of course I do. We all have problems, Eddie..anyone who says they don't is lying."

Eddie nodded. 

"I'm ready to talk..about what happened to me. Frank knows I have a lot to tell him. I need to be around for Christopher. I've got to hold myself together and be a good role model."

"You are. You're a great dad."

"So are you.." 

"What?" Buck scoffed.

"You're like a dad to him also. He craves your attention. We can raise him together.."

Buck wanted nothing more. 

"I guess that means you should move in.." declared Eddie.

"Maybe."

"Maybe?" Eddie questioned.

"Is it too soon?"

"Buck..you already live here practically."

"True."

"Just say yes," urged Eddie.

"One condition..don't hide anything else from me. And stick to the therapy."

"I can do that."

\----

According to Eddie, the therapy was helping. But he still slipped up a few times, twice Buck had caught him.

Buck tried to remain calm. But he hated seeing his..best friend..boyfriend? Cutting himself up. Eddie was a beautiful man, with an ugly habit.

"I'm so grateful you came into our lives," said Eddie. "I can not thank you enough."

"Okay enough of this sappy crap. Can we please just go makeout somewhere?"

Eddie laughed. 

"How could I say no to that?"

\----

Things were going good for awhile. 

Eddie seemed to be more balanced as the days went on and Buck worried just a little bit less, and Buck left Eddie alone just a little bit more. The progression was long and haggard but Buck was in it for the long haul. He truly believed Eddie was getting better. 

Until yesterday evening, out on the deck he caught Eddie burning the inside of his palm with a lighter. Buck smacked the lighter away and was so angry he stomped back inside and did not say a word to Eddie the rest of the night. 

Buck woke up around three a.m. that morning. He rolled over and felt the empty space beside him. His stomach fell and his heart jumped into his throat. 

He knew. 

Sure enough the light underneath of the bathroom door told him all he needed to know. He pushed open the door and Eddie was in position, back leaning against the bathtub. Bloody razor in hand. 

Eddie looked up at Buck guiltily.

"God damn it, Eddie!" cursed Buck.

Eddie squeezed his eyes shut. He could only say sorry so many times. 

"I thought you said the therapy was helping?" Buck exclaimed with frustration. "Or have you been lying about that too?"

"Buck..just go back to bed."

Buck sat down across from Eddie, face hardened.

"I told Bobby," admitted Eddie. "I was worried he would kick me off the team..he said as long as I continue talking to Frank he would keep me.."

Buck nodded, although not in agreement. 

"He should make you go somewhere. Like a clinic or something. The daily trauma we deal with is doing you no favors."

"I know."

"Eddie, when you so this to yourself..it is like you are cutting me too..it hurts."

The brunette tossed the razor into his cigar box and placed it back under the sink. 

"That cigar box..has been in my family for generations. It was the only thing to survive a fire, and because of this..my great, great grandfather carried it everywhere with him. That old cigar box carries a lot of meaning.."

Eddie continued.

"That fire destroyed my great, great grandfather's life. It killed his wife and their two sons..only one survived. He passed the cigar box on to his surviving son, and so on and so on. It is why this cigar box is so important to the men in the Diaz family. Through the fire, life goes on."

"That's fucking deep," replied Buck.

"One day I'll pass it on to Christopher..but for now it is a reminder that I'm alive because my great, great grandfather survived. Obviously my life has some sort of meaning. This is partly why I became a firefighter."

Buck took Eddie's arm gently in his hands and began dressing and cleaning his wounds. 

He never spoke, nor did he look at Eddie. If he did he would cry, or scream. He wasn't sure which emotion would take over. He did not want to know.

\----

Two weeks passed and Eddie continued his sessions with Frank, who had suggested telling his parents what had happened to him, as some sort of closure. So he could truly begin to heal. Eddie was not sure how he felt about this.

"This secret you have harbored inside, it began to attack your body and your mind like a cancer. Keeping it inside caused much more pain than speaking out would have. You never dealt with the trauma, Eddie." Frank explained.

Eddie nodded. 

"I have not cried since my wife died. Even then I stopped myself."

"Why?"

"I just..have always expressed my sadness through..well, you know."

"You have a son, who needs you. He needs you to show him it is okay to feel, to hurt, to cry. Break the cycle of how you were raised so your son has a chance to thrive and be enabled with appropriate coping skills. Children are a lot more perceptive than we think."

\----

That night after dinner, Eddie, Buck and Christopher were playing video games. Without thinking Eddie pushed up his sleeves and Christopher noticed his cuts. 

"Daddy? What happened?"

Eddie paused the game. He and Buck exchanged looks of uncertainty.

Eddie quickly pushed his sleeves back down. 

"I just.."

"Your dad got scratched trying to get a kitten out of a tree."

As cliche as it was, Christopher was too young to catch on to fabrications, most certainly far fetched ones, which he accepted as the truth.

Eddie thanked Buck with simply a look.

This was the realization it took for him to want to stop hurting himself. 

He slinked away as Buck and Christopher played their game and picked up his phone. He contemplated for about a minute. 

"Ma?" Tell dad I'm coming over tomorrow..there's some things we need to talk about."

He looked over to see Buck watching him closely, and Buck gave him a thumbs up.

"No ma- It's not Christopher. He's fine..yeah I'm okay.."

Eddie was quiet as his mother spoke.

"I'd rather not over the phone..uh huh. Alright. Yes.." suddenly Eddie laughed. "Yes. I'll make sure and come hungry. You know I can't get enough of your cooking.."

Buck tried to listen but also tried to focus on the video game, which proved hard.

"No ma..no Christopher this time. Well, because this is kind of..something he does not need to hear. Alright, I love you too ma. Bye."

"I'm going to tell them everything."

"Good," replied Buck with relief.

"I could not have done this without you."

"You can thank me later. Right now Christopher is busy kicking my butt..AGAIN. Jeeze, let up, Chris!"

The boy giggled and Eddie smiled as he watched them both.

Eddie loved this. He could definitely start getting used to being happy.


End file.
